(Intending to ink this early Sunday evening, twas useful I didn't....
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXI)
Think: "they said twas a war-time measure..." pale
Skies washed of clouds as golden light from hence
Bathes these lost wastes with April's freighted sense
Of violets just in tow; as blue heavns hail
The dinner table set with plates t'avail
Our refried beans, cheese, yoghurt, chips fr'intents,
Where all have better things to do, pretense
Trimmed to half curtsy whiles I search for bail.
So I dined when the clock said "now." in tour,
And yearn to linger, watching those deep blue
Heavns which cull shadows to cavort as twere
In Sunday evning's calm. Yet that won't do.
I wash the dishes; study all, then fer
Whatever, scamper off til gloaming'd woo.
11Mar19a